


Self-Made Man

by blessedharlot



Series: Unmade, Made New [1]
Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Anal Sex, Animal is Okay!, Dildos, First Time, Great Library Transtopia, Hand Jobs, I Cant String You Along About Animal Welfare I Cant Do It, M/M, Medical Gender Transition, Oral Sex, Stone Dildos, Strap-Ons, Tran Man Nic Santi, Trans Sex, animal in distress, needle mention, trans author, trans!Santi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22794349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessedharlot/pseuds/blessedharlot
Summary: A wary, besotted Christopher hopes a trip away from home with Niccolo will help him get past his fears, and lead him deeper into his potential new lover's arms. Spoiler alert: it does!
Relationships: Niccolo Santi/Christopher Wolfe
Series: Unmade, Made New [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638754
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	Self-Made Man

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by [RosalindInPants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosalindInPants/profile)'s very lovely fic, [What is Meant To Be](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21889927).

The narrow river was placid, for now, though it wouldn’t be much longer. The groundskeeper had warned them to expect a surge soon from heavy rains further up the mountain. Chris could already feel a certain expectant charge to the current passing by. But here, rock walls bordered the river on either side, tall enough to prevent flooding. The tumbling, swollen waterway would be held fast between the still walls of stone, the water in turn shaping smoother curves on the rocks. Chris noticed the river had left a very pleasant variegated pattern of wear and coloration on the stone, as well. 

The push and pull of the two forces - water and stone - had created a formidable, beautiful pairing. 

Nothing else about the no doubt vivid spring day around them had truly caught Chris’ attention like that. Other than the great drama of the twin forces playing out before him, he was otherwise too engrossed in the man walking next to him down the path. 

Chris and his new lover Nic - could they be called lovers yet, when they’d completed so little exploration to date? - they’d come here to be alone, away from routine and safe from the interruptions of life in Alexandria. They’d only just arrived and dropped their things before they were trailing a path by the river. Presumably Chris should be noticing all sorts of elements of the pastoral landscape. But every cell of Chris’ body was aware of Nic’s thighs in his casual trousers. Of his shoulders perfectly filling his soft shirt, and stretching his suspenders taut against the linen. Of Nic’s chest, broader than Chris’ own by a minor but carefully observed measure. Of the soft, dark fur that Chris’ fingers ached for, down the dip of Nic’s shirt and laying soft against his bare forearms. Of the neatly cropped, jet black hair above his face, his eyes. 

_ All the gods, those eyes. _ The eyes that schemed and planned and took in this spring day that Chris couldn’t care less about.

Except for a thought or two he could spare for the beauty of these river-sculpted rocks. As most of Chris throbbed and ached for Nic, some distant part of his research brain urged him to develop a formula to explain the color variations. Chris had, he realized, some soft impulse to  _ know  _ the colors better.

“So your uncle owns all of this?” Chris asked, searching for a sense of control through his own current of emotions.

“Everything we can see on this bank of the river,” Nic replied. “And about a hand’s breath of the other side.” He looked over his other shoulder. “It quickly becomes the neighbor’s land, at that point.”

“And your uncle allows you to let this space?”

Nic grinned. “He didn’t ask for rent.”

_ Bizarre, the way Nic actually enjoys his family. Not something any sane man would do. _

“I suppose that’s a reason to keep speaking to relatives,” Chris said, frowning at the river.

Nic chuckled. “I do understand why you might feel that way.”

Chris stopped, and Nic met his gaze.

Chris realized his chest felt tight. And though it would be easy to blame that sensation on the topic of conversation, he realized instead it was probably more to do with the tightness in his trousers. With the way the wind lifted Nic’s hair, and tugged gently at his shirt.

Chris couldn’t blame the wind for trying. He wanted the shirt off of Nic as well.

_ Then why haven’t you removed it? _ He snarled at himself.

“Yes, so,” Chris said, turning away from Nic and walking further down the path. “We have... three days of supplies?”

“Indeed,” Nic said, amused, clapping his palms together and rubbing them like a grasshopper. “Three days. We can get more from town at that time, if we choose. We have the chalet for the week.” He smiled, and threw a glance down Chris’ body in an obscenely charming way.

“Very generous of your uncle,” Chris said, slowing down again, hoping Nic would catch up.

“Yes, indeed,” Nic replied. His hands now clasped behind him, he leaned suspiciously toward Chris as he walked, as though he meant to bump into him.

Well. If Chris’ body wanted to fulfill its desires to be bent over something and rutted like an animal, he supposed he might have to manage to let Nic touch him eventually. His chest ached again at the thought, ready to be bent over something - anything - and be filled with waves of _him_. Of Nic. Nic’s strength pulsing through him. The feeling shot from the tip of Chris’ cock to his ribs and back down again, somehow closing his throat on the way. He stopped where he was, again, and shoved his hands in his pockets while pretending to examine the nearest tree. _Why is this so difficult?_

“Or…” Nic offered quietly. “If… at any point… the accommodations are unsuitable. Or perhaps… a new research concept takes hold and you need to return-”

“Yes, yes, you’ve detailed my escape routes repeatedly,” Chris said, meeting Nic’s eyes with as much disapproval as he could muster. He suspected it wasn’t much. “Do you think me a rabbit about to bolt from you?”

“I think you capable of determining your own timeline for progression of engagement,” Nic said kindly. “Merely making you aware of your options. Scholar.”

Nic grinned at him, and Chris noticed again how absurdly kind and generous Nic’s eyes were. He could drown in those eyes, Chris knew it about himself. He thought he’d do so rather happily.

Then a strange new frown crossed Nic’s face, an instant before Chris heard the sound himself. Something of significant size was disturbing the water, in an irregular pattern. They followed the sound further down the path, to the edge of the water, and scanned.

“Nic.” Chris saw it first, and pointed. A creature the size of a wolf or a dog was splashing around, very near the far bank of the river. It was, for some reason, remaining stationary amidst the flow of the water, despite a considerable amount of thrashing.

“Stay here,” Nic said, his brow furrowed. He scanned the area as he approached the edge of the river. Then he tossed off his shoes, dropped right into the water and began walking across.

Chris kept relatively calm, until the water reached past Nic’s waist partway across, and then he began to wonder if he could pull Nic out of this current, and where he might go for help should Nic need it. But Nic carried on further in, crossed the midpoint without incident - without the river quite reaching his shoulders - and reached the creature. The water level there had dropped down nearer to his hips.

The creature went limp at the sight of Nic; it must be domesticated, Chris thought, not to panic more at the presence of humans. Or perhaps it was simply exhausted enough to be consigned to its fate in Nic’s hands. The tones of Nic speaking kindly to the animal floated over the sound of breaking water, though Chris couldn’t parse the words.

As the water around them settled, Chris realized it was a dog. Wolfish-looking, its black fur soaked, eyes tired, it leaned gratefully on one of Nic’s arms. Just above the animal was a tree branch, which Nic’s other hand shook and bent. 

Dog and tree were attached at the neck, as it happened… a tangled lead wrapped around a gnarled branch, no doubt accidentally. The dog was lucky not to have crushed its windpipe on its own collar.

Nic had the creature freed in short order, and instead of trying to swim away, the thing flopped exhausted into Nic’s arms. Nic carried him to the nearest wall - the one opposite Chris - and lifted the tired, furry thing onto dry land before pulling himself up the short wall and sitting down next to him.

Awkwardly, Chris still had nothing to do but watch Nic pet the waterlogged canine. So he crouched down to watch and wait. The animal appeared to be breathing adequately, and Nic scratched at its ears for a moment as it lay there. Nic’s clothes damp against him, he sat next to the little life he’d just shaped so dramatically. Nic was embodied superfluous grace, and contentment. Chris could imagine hating him with envy, if Nic hadn’t already made it perfectly clear how welcome Chris was to his flesh. If their paths didn’t already feel so entangled.

Nic looked up at Chris, just then, and Chris hoped his confusion at his luck translated across the water as anything remotely arousing to view. He smiled, and Nic grinned back.

As though buoyed from the warmth of their private smiles, the dog then stood clumsily, and finally shook the excess water off itself. When it began meandering away, Nic followed a sort distance behind it. As they disappeared behind a copse of trees, Nic gave Chris a gesture to wait, and followed the animal. 

Chris felt he’d only just returned to the allure of the river-molded rocks shaping the river, when Nic appeared again and crossed the river to rejoin him.

Chris’ baseline discomfort with their continued clothed state increased tenfold as Nic emerged from the water - his clothes sopping wet and clinging to him, his arms flexing to pull him up and off the wall. His gaze casually boring into Chris. 

And then. In response to - to what? The weight of Nic’s clothes? The sin of him wearing clothing at all? The no-doubt stunningly uncharming level of hunger in Chris’ eyes? - in response to something, Nic dropped his suspenders and pulled the shirt up over his head without unbuttoning it. The sun glistened off his waist, and his chest, and those arms. 

It was a rude, cruel, overly dramatic level of sexual enticement, and if Chris had any blood left in his brain whatsoever, he would have said so as Nic stepped closer.

“You smell like dog,” Chris said instead.

“Do I?” Nic asked with mock shock.

“Undoubtedly,” Chris said, suppressing a shudder of delight.

“Might be the trousers,” Nic said. “Perhaps I should remove them.”

Chris was quite certain that if the trousers came off, he’d assault Nic right here riverside, imaginary smell and neighbors and insects be damned. It would be undignified and awkward and incredible.

Nic grinned at his beat of silence. “Scholar, I have no wish to insult your refined sensibilities with sour smells,” Nic continued. “You must tell me if these should come off.”

Chris thought he’d say something witty, he really did. His brain had already leapt ahead, ready to savor a barb or regret a poor comment. Instead, he turned away, startling even himself. He realized his lower lip was caught between his teeth when he pulled it free, bruised, and he tried not to sprint toward the chalet.

“Clean up for supper,” Chris called over his shoulder. “Meet me at the dining table.”

“At your service, Scholar,” Nic said, loudly. Chris didn’t look back to see what he might do.

  
  
  


Nic had shown up at the dining table, freshly cleaned, an indecently silky black shirt highlighting the tan skin at his neck and wrists. He’d refrained from flirting with Chris as they ate though, perhaps reading Chris’ riverside reaction as a cue to slow down. Chris had no idea what he wanted, so he followed Nic’s more experienced lead. Supper was quiet, with that certain ease to it that he and Nic had always found while working. The only thing that ever made talking to Nic the slightest bit difficult was when Chris would rather be kissing him. Chris clamped down of that impulse for now, in hopes he might find some feeling of control again.

Supper then shifted into a game of chess, which Nic won. 

“Now I know you’re distracted,” Nic said with a smile. “That was too easy.”

In lieu of a reply, Chris crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, examining Nic. Nic stilled himself, and watched Chris in return.

“I think this is more difficult than you anticipated,” Nic offered softly.

“Not difficult.” Chris shook his head.

“What, then? You’re tense, and not in the enjoyable way.”

Chris found himself chewing his lip again.  _ When on earth do I start doing that? _

“You were so delightfully forward in Moscow,” Nic said, “and since, for that matter. Until today.”

“If you want delightful, we may have a problem.”

“I want you,” Nic said. He leaned over the chess board and reached a hand toward Chris, stopping short of touch. “All of you. I think very much that you want me too. So what’s in the way now? How can I help?”

Chris licked his lips in thought. “There will be no room left for distance soon, will there?”

“Distance?”

“In some way I don’t understand, I’ve known you already, all these weeks.” Chris leaned forward. Though he hesitated to touch Nic, he finally decided to brush his fingers against Nic’s wrist. “I’ve known certain things, since the beginning. I’ve seen years unfold at your side.”

He looked up, and found Nic’s eyes, dark and warm. Nic nodded. Chris so deeply valued how Nic took his strange thoughts in stride.

“But standing at your side, I could still hide,” Chris smiled ruefully. “Even for years at a time. So could you.”

Nic shifted his hands to rub his thumb across Chris’ fingers.

“Someone else more skilled at physical intimacy could probably hide there too, unclothed next to you,” Chris continued, the words finally surging forth. “But that is not me, and I’m deeply certain that being seen by you, that putting my hands to your skin, that truly sinking into your mouth - much less feeling you move inside me - will entirely and in every way undo me. I will be undone, unmade... and made again. And I know not who I will be, or who you will be next to me.”

Chris saw surprise in Nic’s eyes, and something else. A warmth he knew only he got to see.

“I don’t know who we will become, either,” Nic said. He pulled Chris’ fingers further into his grip. “But I think that Nic will be a better man than this one. He will surely know more joy. I want to discover who he is, and I want to see every Chris that comes to be.”

Chris finally felt something shift. The tightness in his chest spun round from an outward pressure to an inward swell… something aching to burst forth and change them both.

“Then I must impose on you,” Chris said, with a quirk of his lips. “To show me where the bedroom is.”

  
  
  


The second they were inside the room, Chris washed over Nic, using their combined weight to slam the door shut. He knew already how to catch Nic’s face in his hands, how to shove his shoulders back, how to chew on Nic’s lip and suck on his earlobe and nip at his throat. He’d practiced - oh how long he practiced - dedicated to learning how to make Nic’s breath catch, how to elicit soft moans of enjoyment, how to make him smile that most private smile for Chris... always with barriers of clothing, and with unspoken maps of careful touch. Illusions of reversibility of intimacy, if they only press together here, and not here. If they only take their passion so far.

Chris started there, known ground, and poured every drop of his will into pulling those gasps and moans of delight from Nic. He needed them, and each one that they found strengthened Chris.

One shirt was off, and then the other… and at that, they reached the boundary of their previous geography of arousal. Only then did Chris notice the light let in by the sheer white curtains behind them. The slanted light caught the swell of Nic’s shoulders, and the taper down to his narrow, muscled waist. Nic was a god, a beauty, a force of nature, meant for Chris. 

Chris sat on the bed then, and deliberately slowed his hands, running them down Nic’s belly and wrapping his fingers around Nic’s hips.

“Now…” Nic said, an odd tone to his voice. “Here’s where we have one last thing to discuss.”

Nic reached slowly for the fly on his trousers, and Chris smiled.

“Oh yes,” Chris said excitedly, reaching for Nic’s waistband himself. “What topic had you in mind? Politics? The weather?”

Nic stilled Chris’ hand with his own. Chris looked up at him, surprised. Nic’s eyes were… cautious.

“There’s one more thing you might not have anticipated,” Nic said.

“We just discussed my lack of knowledge for fueling any anticipatory planning whatsoever.”

“Nevertheless.”

Nic took one step away, forcing Chris to drop his hands into his own lap. Nic pulled his trousers down and kicked them off.

Nic’s briefs were the briefest Chris had seen, the kind usually reserved for female soldiers, as far as he knew. They ended just at the crease that topped his legs, which Chris instantly realized would display the curves of his ass magnificently. He refrained from demanding Nic spin around in front of him, and made a note to look later. He noticed the briefs didn’t have a flap in the front.

“You wear the short briefs,” Chris said.

“I prefer these,” Nic said. “The longer ones have a seam down the center front. Quite uncomfortable on tender protrusions.”

“Oh, are you circumcised?” Chris asked, thinking that must be what Nic wanted to discuss. “Odd for a Christian,” he mused aloud. Surely Nic didn’t think Chris had enough experience to have a preference.

“In a manner of speaking,” Nic said. He dropped the briefs then too, and stood naked in front of Chris… still just distant enough that Chris couldn’t put his hands on him.

The first thing Chris noticed as Nic stood straight again was the look on his face… inscrutable, much tenser than a moment ago, and colored with something Chris couldn’t decipher, but that made his heart ache.

Chris’s eyes trailed down from there to Nic’s chest that he’d already memorized, his hips that had tantalized Chris so, his trail of hair leading further down… and between Nic’s legs, an unexpectedly single mound, with a short, erect member lifted up from underneath a hood. His erection was a dusky pink, like the head of Chris’s own phallus, currently pressing against his trousers.

_ Ah _ , Chris thought, realization dawning.  _ Yes, I suppose that’s what Nic was so tense to discuss _ .

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Chris said, somewhat irritably.

“It wasn’t your business any earlier,” Nic said, firm and guarded. “Now it is.”

Chris tilted his head. “Accurate assessment,” he nodded.

“Now what?” Nic asked, toneless.

Chris was getting a bit exasperated. “You’re the one experienced in love-making, not me. Have you no ideas?”

Nic sighed, almost imperceptibly. “If you wish to check your Codex now, for any family crises or work emergencies to pull you away, I won’t stop you.”

Chris grunted. “You make no sense,” he spat. “And you’re too far away.” He didn’t mean to whine by the end of his statement, but he knew he had.

Nic’s eyes narrowed, and he reluctantly took a step forward.

Chris hooked one arm around Nic’s waist with some desperation as soon as he could reach it, as though he could force Nic to stay close. His other hand lifted and hovered over Nic’s phallus. 

“Was this the topic you wished to discuss?” Chris said. He wasn’t certain of anything, but his fingers ached to circle it and rub it. Surely, it was a smaller version of his own, and would function similarly.

“This was it.”

“You’ll have to teach me how to pleasure you,” he said, while failing to stop his hand from caressing just as it wanted to. The flesh on either side was rather unlike his own testicles... but the rod in the middle was undoubtedly something Chris instinctually understood.

Nic was already breathing heavily. “I think I could find that time for that,” he said.

Chris shifted to caress the stalk with his thumb and first two fingers; there wasn’t length for much more than that. He brought his lips into Nic’s belly.

“Is this alright?” Chris asked.

“Yes,” Nic breathed. “Just like that, right now. No firmer on the shaft.”

Chris nodded and looked up as Nic tilted his head back. Chris couldn’t help using his tongue to trace a portion of the line down the center of Nic’s abdominal muscles.

Nic let out a long, slow moan, and Chris felt tension drain out of him.  _ He really had worried what I thought _ , Chris realized.

A now softened hand alighted on Chris’ hair.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Nic said to Chris’ furrowed brow. “But it really is easiest to save that for last. And you’re still wearing entirely too many clothes.”

Before Chris could think his way back into fear, their lips had met again. And Chris was determined to let himself be seen. With no great attention paid to it, his clothes were simply gone. And now he lay next to Nic, on the bed, both of them as naked as they should be.

Nic took Chris into his arms, and pressed him tight to his chest. Chris clung there, through another drenchingly amorous kiss, and every instance of their flesh making contact swelled that river of arousal. Chris gripped at Nic’s back. Their legs intertwined, and Chris’ cock sat against Nic’s hip. Nic’s own cock sat more subtly against Chris’ thigh, as both of them slowly ground against the other.

Chris pulled away from Nic’s mouth only long enough to catch his breath… to tilt his head back and reach for cooler air to curb his runaway fever. But Nic took the pause as a chance to roll Chris onto his back and pin him to the mattress by his hips.

Chris shuddered with delight. “All the Gods. Niccolo!” he gasped.

“All your gods had best have some very blissful moments lined up for you right about now, or I’ll be having more than words with them.”

Chris giggled. “And your god? What do you expect he has planned next for you?”

Nic grinned, a feral bright light in his eyes.

“I don’t care what any of them want. What do you want?”

Chris felt dizzy. Nic tilted his hips, and used the warm crease between his own legs to rub against Chris’ erection. Chris moaned.

“If that sound was a request, I can’t read the specifics,” Nic grinned wickedly, still rubbing against Chris. “What is your wish, Christopher?”

“I want…” Chris wet his lips and struggled for words. He groped for Nic’s arms, hoping the fierce weight of them might return Chris to his own tongue. Nic’s arms, his neck, his cheekbone pressed to Chris’ palm, that would help. That would focus Chris on...

Chris trailed a thumb across Nic’s smile. 

“I want your mouth,” Chris gasped.

“You want it where?” 

“On my shaft.”

Nic growled, and thrust the growl into Chris’ mouth. Chris let himself be softened even further by the rumble, let it sink into his own bones and reshape them.

And then he felt kisses, tender and light, against his collarbone. His nipple. His belly. His hip. And then he knew Nic was faced with the transformation he’d caused in Chris, with the deep longing to make and be unmade.

Nic started at the base of Chris’ cock, and laid a line of kisses from one end to the other. His warm breath and soft lips commingled with the wet slick Nic had left there from his grinding, to create a simultaneous warm and cool sensation that Chris thought might make him faint. He focused on breathing slowly, on pushing away his intrusive worries about his own body, on the fact that Nic was right where he said he wanted to be.

“Christopher?” Nic held the name in his mouth with awe and wonder.

Chris realized he had his eyes screwed tightly shut - which was a deeply absurd thing to be doing at any point in time when he could instead be watching Niccolo Santi in the nude - and opened his eyes to look down.

The first thing he caught sight of was Nic’s beautiful blue lion tattoo. Chris loved that piece of art more than any other he could think of. He loved seeing it leaned against his own hip.

“Christopher?” Nic’s tone was more amused this time.

“Yes?” Chris thought he sounded like he was calling on a student in a lecture hall.

Nic grinned, in yet another way that looked positively wicked and wonderful; Chris would have to develop a taxonomy to this purpose.

“Doing alright?” Nic checked.

Chris nodded, mute. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Nic asked.

Chris nodded again. Wait, that wasn’t quite right.

“This, but more,” Chris managed, in the huskiest voice he’d ever heard come from his own throat.

Nic’s eyes sparkled as his tongue slowly reached for the tip of Chris’ cock. It took all of Chris’ power not to throw his head back at the very sight of it… but he was at least lucid enough to realize such an action would lose him his peerless visual.

Chris watched as Nic savored him, taking the most absurd amount of time to lick until he found every tenderest spot. He watched as Nic reveled in finding different angles he could place his wet lips against Chris to make him shudder.

And then, much later, when Chris had lost track of time several times over, Nic wrapped his lips around the head of Chris’ cock, and held Chris’ gaze while he sucked the whole shaft into his mouth.

This wasn’t measurable. This wasn’t graphable. This was bliss, it was a current of joy with a will all its own, determined to drag him inside itself. Chris unclenched as well as he could. He tried to let go of the shore, and as he did, he scrabbled for Nic’s eyes and found them, gazing into them as he felt Nic’s throat around his cock. 

_ This will be my compass _ , he thought, stroking Nic’s beautiful black hair.  _ This will be home. _

And at that, the current took him and unraveled him. His heart pounded against the joy, against Nic, and all were changed, reshaped, were made differently now.

Chris rested his throat, after making he knew not what sorts of sounds. He was spent, but still hungered.

Nic arose from his position, and lay the full length of his body beside Chris.

“Nic.”

“Yes?”

Chris would comment on the bliss, on the climax. On Nic’s tongue. On his own inadequacies creeping back into his head. On… something. Nic was waiting for something.

Instead, Chris shook his head in gratitude, and rolled over to reach for Nic with thankful, hungry hands.

More kisses. More deep dives into Nic’s mouth. That would right Chris’ ragged breathing. Possibly. It was worth a try. Chris tasted himself on Nic’s tongue, and thought he might come again.

“Nic, what do you want?” Chris said, barely able to pull his mouth away from Nic’s. “What can I do to please you?” He sunk his fingers into Nic’s hair.

Nic cocked his head away from Chris’ mouth. “Oh, I have an extensive list on that subject. It will take some time.”

“Will it?” Chris said, quirking his lips and wrapping his legs tightly around Nic’s waist. “Do you think you can successfully seduce me enough times to complete your entire agenda?”

“Well, it’s not a given we’ll complete it, but it’s worth the investment.”

“Tell me something you want to do, then.”

Nic smiled again, this time with a soft tenderness. “What do you want to do next? If it’s not on the list, it should be.”

Chris shook his head with a delighted frown. “No, it’s your turn. Stop making me do all the work.”

Nic chuckled, his face so close that Chris could feel the puffs of warm air. Then he pulled away with a gentle abruptness, and looked in Chris’ eyes.

“I have an idea what you want,” Nic mused.

“Enough about me,” Chris argued with a loving scowl. “You’re not putting this solely on my desires again. You bring your own.”

“Fine. I know exactly what I’m going to do to you next,” Nic said, using his command voice. Rather unnecessarily and splendidly, Chris thought.

“Get up,” Nic ordered, pushing Chris’ hip away.

Soon, they both stood naked, and Nic placed a small piece of luggage in front of them. Chris marveled first at the cherrywood box with magnificent inlay; when Nic opened it, Chris pressed his fingertips to the satin lining as though it were Nic’s flesh itself. He then turned his imagination toward the phalluses inside. Five different sizes and shapes of marble, wood and steel all vied for his attention. Each one crafted a different warm ache inside of him.

“I hope you understand your status here,” Nic said, gravely.

Chris blinked, his mind now reeling with the puzzle of what his ‘status’ might be… another taxonomical dilemma his mind considered, and then flung away with abandon as he felt Nic’s warm hand on his hip, Nic’s chest now pressing against his back.

“I don’t let just any man into my box,” Nic purred in his ear.

Chris nearly laughed. Nearly. It wouldn’t do to give him the satisfaction of appreciating his wit too easily. He needed to play a long game here. “Oh, you think you’re terribly clever, don’t you?” he said.

“I really do,” Nic replied.

“Puns are the lowest form of humor.”

“Says who?”

“Says anyone with half a capacity for wit.”

“You’re stalling.”

“I’m not. You haven’t told me what I’m doing yet,” Chris flung back with a smirk.

Nic leaned back to his ear. “Well, unless you want to take all five,” he whispered, “which is a bit further down my list…”

Chris felt his lips part on a gasp, as something burst with longing inside of him.

“It’s best for today that you pick, say... one.” Nic informed him, a light friendliness in his tone now.

Chris looked back at the box, and his mouth watered.  _ Don’t overthink it, Christopher, just pick. _

The second smallest phallus was made of tiger quartz, and gleamed with a lustrous grain of variegated gold. He lifted it from the box and immediately enjoyed the smooth weight of it in his hands, pressing back against his curled fingers and palm in a delicious manner.

Before Chris could change his mind, he handed it to Nic. Nic’s gaze slid easily from the phallus to Chris’ eyes as Nic licked his lips.

“On the bed then,” Nic said, cheerily. “Best piece of furniture to start with.”

Chris deliberately pushed past Nic’s shoulder and walked away from him, toward the bed. Rather than regulating his breath and calming his blood, though, turning away from Nic this time only made him intensely aware that he was turning his bare ass to his new lover. He wondered what Nic might find to enjoy in the simpler curves of Chris’ sleeker form… but instead of worrying, he thought he felt the heat of Nic’s attention on his skin, and nearly let himself enjoy it.

Chris found the bed again, and began to turn back to reach for Nic, eager to spin around and gather him into his arms. Nic wasn’t at arm’s reach behind him, though. He was only inches away, close enough to take Chris’ hip into his hands and lock him in place. 

The voice in Chris’ ear was everything all at once - soft and amorous, fierce and gentle, yielding and penetrating. 

“On your knees, beloved,” Nic said. “You’ll want to brace against the headboard.”

Chris paused before complying, taking a moment to melt into Nic’s embrace. He’d brace himself, he’d take Nic to the depths of him, he’d follow every order. But first he needed to savor that he could… that Nic was so generous as to let him. There was a loud whimper, and Chris realized that it was his.

Chris climbed up on the bed then. He placed his knees where he could reach the headboard when it was time to bend forward, though he didn’t lean yet. There he waited the few moments it took for Nic to wrap his pelvis in a few black leather straps, and secure the striped stone phallus to himself.

The stature of the stone, the lines of Nic's waist, the black leather against his skin, the tease of the muscular swells around his backside... it was a deeply arousing sight. Nic was skilled at providing those. Chris made another mental note to find time for gazing at Nic's bare ass someday. But just now, it felt off-topic.

He noticed his own hand on his erect cock only when Nic climbed onto the bed and added his hand as well. Chris groaned into Nic’s waiting mouth. And after Nic had pumped Chris’ shaft a few times with a delectable roughness, he dipped Chris backward past his own center of gravity and held him there… knees still in position, back arched, all his weight in Nic’s hands.

Chris gleefully lost track of which way was up, and let himself be carried on Nic’s embrace.

When the kiss was done, Nic righted Chris again, running a soothing hand up and down Chris’ back while he regained his bearings. When Chris nodded, Nic shifted himself. From behind Chris, Nic’s hands wandered all over his body… front, back, and side caressed and explored. 

“Good, slow breathing,” Nic cooed in his ear. “That’s good. You’ll want to be relaxed.”

Chris giggled. “‘A musculature of relaxed formation acretes the delectation of the ingress.’”

Nic’s hands paused for just an instant. 

“Whatever that was, it was intensely arousing,” Nic replied.

“It was not. It’s the least arousing thing I’ve ever read.”

“I disagree. You must quote more.”

“I will not,” Chris laughed.

As Chris’ laugh softened to a smile, Nic leaned away, and came back again quickly. Chris felt a hand return to his hip, and he leaned forward on instinct, arching his back for Nic.

An oiled hand slipped down Chris’ back crease, and found his entrance. Nic paused there, stroking with a few feather touches, and then circling around more firmly.

“Nic! Nic, you must,” Chris whimpered, as though some question still hung in the air.

“I must what?” 

“I need you inside me, please.”

“Ah, I see.” Chris could hear the infuriating smile on Nic’s face without looking. “So what must I do?”

“Please fuck me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Fuck me!”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Chris realized what Nic wanted and slammed a palm heel against the headboard in protest, even as he gave it. 

“You must accrete my delectation with an ingress, you maddening, preposterous fool!”

At that, a finger entered Chris. And he immediately needed more. He forced himself against Nic - or tried to - but a startled arm circled his waist.

“Steady,” Nic said, chuckling. “Plenty here for you. Let me aim properly, my love.”

“More, Nic, you must, please.”

Nic quickly added more fingers, Chris knew not how many. But it wasn’t what Chris wanted.

“I need your cock,” Chris said. “Please, dearest, any of them.”

“Your wish is my command, Scholar.”

Chris’s throat constricted around desire welling up inside, while Nic removed his fingers and brushed Chris’ crease with the tip of the stone phallus. The one strapped on to Nic. Nic’s cock. He waited only an instant for Nic to place himself properly before he shoved against the headboard and felt himself swallow up Nic’s cock to the hilt. 

He let a long groan out as he adjusted to all the novel sensations. A stretch, a deepening, an exquisite impalement through the center of him. He was anchored on Nic’s hips, where he belonged.

“That’s it, my love,” Nic soothed. “Are you alright?”

Chris nodded as emphatically as he could possibly manage. He felt Nic’s fingers dig into him, while Nic made a corrective sound, and realized he was already trying to rock into him.

“Wait here, beloved,” Nic said. “Give yourself a moment.”

Chris moaned, trying to slow the hunger now awakened and gnawing at him. He gasped for air like he was drowning, and laughed.

“ _ Nigiri hosomete gutto irikeri _ ,” Chris said, chuckling. “ _ Hachatsubo no kuchi no hosoki ni  _ _ ō _ _ bukuro _ .”

“What does that mean?” Nic said, shifting Chris just enough for him to feel a tiny thrill of pressure.

Chris laughed out his long moan. “It’s a haikai. The first line is, ‘Gripping it, squeezing it, plunging it in!’” Chris took in an amused breath. “And the second line, ‘Into a small-mouthed jar, a big bag of tea leaves.’”

Nic laughed, and the motion shivered through Chris at their joining point. Then Nic stopped laughing abruptly.

“Scholar,” Nic warned, slipping slowly out. “Did you just…” He began a long, slow, inevitable stroke back inside. “Would you call that a pun?” he said, reaching deep to underscore his point.

Chris gasped. “Certainly not,” he said thickly. “It’s word play.”

“That’s no different,” Nic said, thrusting in and out slowly.

“It’s quite different,” Chris groaned. “It’s.. the term…”

Chris gave up on speech and let the wave overtake him, shivering in place. Their flesh spoke directly one to the other, shaping and reshaping with every wave. Chris gripped the headboard as Nic rode him with vigorous care, letting the tide take both of them. Rock and water, flesh to stone.

Chris felt himself arch again, drowned entirely on a climactic wave. He returned again to the bliss of Nic bearing down harder, finally groaning into Chris’ shoulder. With a shudder and a sigh, Nic pulled out and collapsed next to him. A moment later, Chris just dropped where he was, and curled boneless against Nic.

Seemingly incapable of anything else, Nic brought a wavering hand up to Chris’ mouth, tracing his bottom lip crookedly.

“You came while inside me?” Chris asked.

“Yes,” Nic whispered, clearly delighted.

“Your arrangement allows for that?” Chris asked, hoping his own delight showed on his face.

“Yes,” Nic said again.

“Splendid,” Chris replied. “That’s magnificent. You must do that quite frequently, in fact.”

“Yes,” Nic nodded.

“Now to return to the point in our conversation where you interrupted me, the haikai employs a variant from of word play from the pun-”

Nic let out a long, slow moan of a laugh. Chris raised his voice to compensate.

“A variant form more accurately described as a double entendre-”

“There’s no damned difference and you know it.”

“There most certainly is. A proper double entendre is much more resilient to translation difficulties. The descriptions of penetration so lurid in the poem-”

Nic grabbed him and pressed his tongue so far into Chris’ throat for so long that he forgot his point. He was reminded, however, of another point, and pulled away.

“Time to return to your own cock, now,” Chris instructed. “The one permanently attached.”

“Oh, yes,” Nic slurred. “We certainly could.”

“Have you another climax in you?”

Nic hummed in assent.

Chris sat up to look, and unfastened the harness with the buckles Nic showed him. With that out of the way, Chris could see that flesh to either side of Nic’s shaft was passionately swollen now, and felt springy under his fingertips. Nic moaned at the feel of his hand.

“Should I stimulate your shaft,” Chris asked, “or the skin around it? Or behind?”

“Yes,” Nic gasped with a grin. 

Nic reached for Chris’ hand and curved it into a particular shape around his cock, fingers split to rub at either side. When Nic began to guide his moves, Chris matched the pattern.

“Here,” Nic said. “Come back up here, from this position.” Nic patted the space next to him, and Chris laid back down beside him. 

_ Yes,  _ Chris thought. _ If this angle is an improvement, I believe I see what to do. _

In response to Chris’ new movement - a simple variation from what he’d use himself - Nic moaned more deeply. “Won’t be long like that,” he breathed.

“Excellent,” Chris replied, enjoying the capacity to watch Nic more carefully. Nic’s arousal had already wound him up to heaving breaths, and soon he was groping for Chris’ mouth, and gasping into his neck.

“Oh Christ!” Nic swore. “Christopher, can I bite you?”

Chris gasped, seeking out Nic’s gaze and thrown mute by the wildness in it. But he managed a nod, and as he felt a new pulse through Nic’s cock, Nic curled his head up and sunk his teeth into Chris’ neck.

Nic pressed against him in waves, all sweat and musk and glorious heat, until he arched back onto the bed in one last burst of tension. Finally, Nic batted Chris’ hand away and collapsed with fatigue.

Once again, Chris felt swept away at the deep richness of it all. Nic was no less overwhelming in beauty as he lay there, spent. Chris snuggled into one limp arm, and ran his hand through the patch of soft fur at Nic’s sternum. He breathed in their mingled scents, the air they shared, the changes he already felt between them and through them. Chris rest his head on one limb of the river they shared, and closed his eyes. If he didn’t know better, Chris might have thought he prayed. From gratitude or possessiveness or something else, he couldn’t say. Eventually Nic’s hand started carding through his hair. Chris rested, content.

  
  


Some time later, Chris reluctantly left Nic’s warmth to freshen up in the adjoining lavatory. He did so as quietly as he could, unsure if Nic was awake.

When he was done, and on his way to return to bed, something gleamed beside the lavatory sink and caught his eye. It was the sort of package that carried a Medica-provided syringe, and beside it was a small metal vial. There must be some medication Nic needed to inject that he brought with him. Potentially endocrine-related, he thought. Chris felt slight discomfort at first, feeling he was intruding on Nic’s privacy to notice it in the first place. Anything that Nic needed from a Medica wasn’t really his business just yet. But then, puzzle pieces started snapping into place. And as the realization came to him, Chris stood in the doorway back to the bedroom, swiveling his head from the sink-side items to Nic, and back.

Nic, for his part, was most certainly awake, and now had a blisteringly smug grin on his face.

“You,” Chris said, “you are a jackass of extraordinary measure and astounding obstinacy.”

Nic guffawed.

“The relentless judgment you have visited upon me,” Chris shook his head in shock. 

Nic held his stomach, he laughed so hard.

“The bitter blame you have heaped on my head,” Chris ranted, “for thinking we first met in Moscow.”

Nic hadn't stopped his delicious ring of a belly laugh. It was infuriating.

“For finding you ‘forgettable’ during our postulancy,” Chris marveled, “all the while knowing full well you’d recalibrated your entire endocrine system in the interim!”

Nic slowed his laugh, reached for a calm expression, and then spoke. “I also had a double mammary removal,” he said, guffawing again, his pleasure at his secret joke spilling out freely.

Chris knew he was gaping at Nic, his mock anger hiding a sort of pride that Nic had managed such an excellent game on him.

“In my defense,” Nic said, finally wiping away tears of laughter. “I began hormone therapy during postulancy, not after. Had you been paying any attention at all to any of us by the time we were passed and given postings - which, you weren’t - you would have noticed things like my new facial hair and my voice cracking.”

Chris only marginally tried to keep the awe out of his voice as he climbed back into bed. “You started a hormone shift during postulancy?”

Nic nodded.

“You won yourself a gold band with the Library and a position as High Garda while reshaping your own bones? Redistributing body fat? Shifting your center of gravity? Rebuilding your veins and muscles?”

“I did.”

Chris found the enormous feat intensely arousing. “A self-made man,” he said.

“Not anymore,” Nic said. “You’ve saved me from that.”

Nic reached for him. Chris took Nic’s hand between his and lifted it to his mouth, kissing each finger one by one.

“Unmaking me,” Nic whispered, “and making me again.”

Chris nodded, and sunk back into Nic with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> A note, particularly for trans readers: near as I can tell, we're only just beginning to build collective traditions and tropes in fiction made by and aimed at trans folks, especially in the genres of smut and romance about us, for us. This story is a part of my own experimenting with narratives of desire, embodiment, and sexual and romantic fantasy, all *specifically* from a trans perspective. My aim here was to make all of my decisions by what I thought might best satisfy trans readers like me.
> 
> I won't go into all of my decisions, but a few merit a mention. I deliberated for some time on POV character, and ultimately (and surprisingly, for me) I chose the cis partner for the first story of the series. I found that allowed me to directly portray the deep desirability of a trans body... to see a trans man’s flesh through the eyes of love and longing. I also found the cis partner’s POV made it easier for me to emphasize a *continuity* of desire, regardless of expectations. I wanted both a reveal of transness and a lack of disruption around it… visceral evidence that trans bodies are desirable not in spite of anything but *because trans people are desirable*. Additionally, though I don't usually focus on the "perfection" of bodies, I did so here, pulling Nic's exemplary physicality from the book as a kind of potential fantasy wish fulfillment for some trans readers.
> 
> I will use Nic’s POV later in this series, and my aim there will be to explore trans sexuality beyond initial introduction and acceptance of differentness. The deep devotion of the canon couple is, I hope, a rich way into that.


End file.
